


Cry For the Moon

by micehell



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, TOKIO
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood in an icky way, Drama, Horror (mild), M/M, Someone behaving out of character (but for a good reason)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-27
Updated: 2010-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:06:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was odd to feel safe now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cry For the Moon

In the light from the full moon, the snow seemed almost silver, crunching solidly under every step that Nagase took. It was the type of snow that was hard, icy pellets; lousy for snowballs thrown over a distance, but for targets nearby, with some quick handling, it made a great missile, slinging bits of debris that stung like mad before it fell apart. Nagase was tempted, Shindo right behind him and far more intent on catching every move Nagase made with the camera than on what he was actually doing. But he and Gussan had already delayed filming enough that night when they'd insisted on stopping for a late dinner at a stand they'd come across. It had had the biggest beef bowls Nagase had ever seen, so big even Gussan had trouble finishing his, but that had meant a late start when they headed out to the woods for the final part of the day's shoot. It had gone past twelve now, all the crew but the two of them and their cameramen already setting up back at the base camp for the final shot, everyone cold as hell, and even Shindo, notoriously easygoing, wasn't the happiest with either of them that he'd ever been, so Nagase decided that catching up to Gussan and getting finished filming for the night was probably the safer bet.

Catching up was turning out to be a problem, though, since Gussan shouldn't have been that far ahead, but there was no sign of him or his cameraman around, any tracks they'd left apparently covered over by the light coat of new snow that had just stopped falling half an hour ago, and giving no hint of where they were. Nagase wondered if they'd gone off the trail into the woods, but even if Gussan had been in a weird enough mood to do it, Kido wasn't the type to waste more time or effort on going that far off script, and certainly not into woods that looked spooky even in the bright light of the moon.

Shindo shook his head when Nagase gave him a questioning look. They'd found the last flag and Shindo had radioed to Kido about it, but that had been right around when the snow had stopped and they still hadn't found them. Giving up on filming for the time being, Shindo dug out the radio again, but pulled up short when they cleared a slight rise on the trail and finally saw someone ahead of them.

In moonlight, the blood looked almost black, even against the white of the snow; splashed across the path in long trails, spreading out in a slushy pool around the body on the ground. Shindo startled back, dropping his camera as he turned to the side and started gagging, but Nagase could only stare, torn between horror and sorrow, and needing to know if it was Gussan lying torn in front of him or Kido. He'd feel bad if it was Kido, a father of only two months, married little more than that, and then he'd be as sick and scared as Shindo. But if it was Gussan... that would hurt in ways he didn't want to think about.

Shindo had managed to get his stomach under control, radioing back to the base camp while desperately looking around him for whatever had been here before them. The PD was yelling at him, voice tinny and high through the tiny radio, not able to believe it wasn't a stunt, but even as Nagase started moving closer to the body, he could hear Shindo, his own voice nearly an octave higher with near hysteria, finally starting to get through. Nagase knew that they'd be told to come back right away, be told to stay as safe as they could and together, but even though he knew it was the better choice, he still had to see. Still had to be sure who it was he should be mourning.

He found Kido's radio five meters short of the body, wet with blood and snow and crushed even before he'd stepped on it. Right past it was his camera, a jumble of broken pieces, but the light they'd attached to film by was oddly still working, shining on a tiny rise of snow that was melting under its heat. It also lit the tip of the red scarf Kido had been wearing, tassels caught in a bit of brush to the side, cut from the rest of the scarf by whatever had torn out Kido's throat, and the only part of him not soaked in blood. Nagase felt his body convulse with relief and the nausea swelling up inside him, dropping him to his knees regardless of the snow and blood. But then a new fear set in. If this was Kido, who could hold his own against Gussan in arm wrestling, who was competitive in judo, who should have had at least some chance of defending himself against whatever had killed him, then where was Gussan, who hadn't been in a serious fight since right before they debuted, and all those years on DASH or not, had never had to defend himself against anything worse than a amorous dog?

Nagase looked around, trying to make sense of the jumble of tracks that surrounded him, searching for the path Kido must have taken to get there and the path Gussan might have taken to get away. He couldn't see where the animal had come out of the woods, but he could see one set of tracks, obviously human, that led into them, and that had to have been Gussan. Shindo was calling for him to come back, but he pressed forward, not able to leave Gussan behind if he was still alive. He kept a wary watch, though, eyeing every shadow in the hopes he'd spot what had attacked Kido before it came after him.

But it wasn't him that the creature came for, Shindo's scream, cut short, reaching Nagase before he'd gone even thirty steps into the woods. He hesitated, the quick flashes of movement he could see between the trees and the awful _wet_ sound that followed them making him sick again, acid burning his throat and tears he didn't want to cry like streaks of ice down his face. He wanted to scream, to throw something at it, anything to make it stop, but while he knew he was a fast runner, and that he wasn't a pushover, not with his height, this thing was fast, Nagase not really able to track it as it moved over its prey. Wrong as it felt to not try, there wasn't anything he could do to stop it, except maybe die as well.

He didn't have much time for regret before it had already moved off, darting back the way they'd come from. That got Nagase to moving, knowing that that was the direction their help was coming from. He needed Shindo's radio to warn them... and he needed to see if Shindo had gotten luckier than Kido. But one look, and the smell of blood so strong Nagase almost choked on it, was enough to know that Shindo's luck hadn't held any better than his friend's. The radio, however, thrown wide in the attack, was visible even half-buried in a pile of snow, and Nagase felt his knees nearly drop him again with the knowledge that his connection to something besides the horror around him was still there.

He'd been looking for the creature, still not sure what it was beyond upright, a bear maybe, but keeping a desperate eye out on not just the way it had gone, but in the trees beside and behind him, just in case. But in all his caution he'd never considered that there another direction it could come from. He'd barely heard the scramble of claws on wood, the crack as tree limbs protested the weight pressed on them, before he was slammed into the ground by the attack from above. For a moment he couldn't feel a thing, body stunned out of breath and sense by the impact, but just as his breath stuttered back, he felt the claws digging into his arms, sharp and deep, pulling him up and over, not even faltering for a moment when Nagase tried to fight back, just slamming him into the ground again, his back taking the impact this time. The base for his mic cracked, one piece of it stabbing hard into his hip, and his breathing stuttered again with the pain of it, but the only air he could get into his starved lungs was hot, humid, the breath from the animal that pressed down against him.

It was so close it was hard to see it, his vision already blurred from fear and pain. He could see fangs like a wolf, a prominent brow, long ears and feral, golden eyes. He could also see Gussan's features underneath them; distorted, but still recognizable as he stared down at Nagase, a mix of the familiar and the alien. Nagase shook his head in denial, not wanting to believe it. But the pain said it wasn't a dream, and denial didn't keep those fangs from scraping across his throat, a thin layer of skin the only barrier to the vein that was pulsing madly beneath them. Nagase held his breath, trying to be as still as possible, to keep his throat as far from death as he could, even as part of his brain laughed at such a feeble defense.

But feeble or not, it seemed to work, as a minute passed and nothing happened. The attack on Shindo had been fast; no hesitation, no feeding, just straight to the kill. But Gussan wasn't doing that now, just holding Nagase down, holding mostly still himself, except to press in a little closer, sniffing at his hair, his face, his throat. Like a wolf scenting his prey, except that his prey was already caught and helpless, and wondering why he wasn't dead already. Nagase wanted to say something, maybe even to beg, to see if any part of his friend was still in whatever Gussan was now, but he was afraid that any action on his part might finally be the thing that set him off, that turned him back into the creature Nagase had seen kill Shindo just minutes before. All he could do was wait.

Concentrating hard on not dying, it didn't register with Nagase at first, the warmth along his leg. It wasn't until Gussan started to shift restlessly, to press the growing hardness against him, that it finally sank in why he was alive when Shindo wasn't. That finally got him moving, a mindless urge to get away, not even caring that all he was accomplishing was to drive the mic base further into his back and to have Gussan’s grip tighten, those long nails digging in harder to hold him still. All he knew was that he couldn't let it happen, not like this.

The calculating part of his brain was telling him maybe he should accept it, use it to stay alive if he possibly could. It pointed out that it was just sex, something he liked as a usual rule, and that he wasn't some delicate child, crying into a heart-shaped pillow because he hadn't wanted it to be this way. But the most of him was yelling, in his head and out of it, because no matter how much he tried to tell himself it wasn't Gussan anymore, that it was something else altogether, it still _seemed_ like Gussan to him, just... just one not quite in his mind. And no matter how much Nagase wanted to live, he couldn't deal with Gussan taking from him what they'd both almost given any number of time over the years; circumstances always against them, but the thought of it like a low hum at the back of their heads. Maybe, _maybe_ , if it had been someone else, he might have been able to be practical about it, but it wasn't, and he wasn't, and he kicked and clawed, desperate to get free one way or another.

Whatever else the change had done to him, though, it had made Gussan even stronger than normal. He pulled Nagase's arms above his head, ground his wrists hard into the snow and dirt with what seemed like no effort, and even with his shorter legs, he managed to pin Nagase's legs down completely. But being pinned beneath him like that, Gussan's arousal now pressed against the curve of his hip, just made Nagase panic more, trying to buck the other man off, trying to jerk his arms free, anything and everything until he finally had to stop, out of breath and exhausted, and just as helpless as he'd been before.

But just like the fatal bite that hadn't come, nothing else happened this time either. Just Gussan looking down at him, face strained and muscles tight, as if he was fighting with himself, but holding still otherwise.

When Nagase got his breath back, he started the war again, knowing it was pointless, but still needing to try. Gussan just shook his head, like he had a thousand times before when Nagase was being foolish and Gussan wanted him to stop, trying to get him back on track with minimal fuss. Years of exposure to that subtle authority had pretty much brainwashed Nagase into automatically obeying when Gussan did it, and it worked then as well. Maybe it hadn't meant anything beyond a predator wanting its prey to stop fighting, and maybe there really was nothing left of Gussan in this thing that worse his face, if slightly out of true, but Nagase felt some of his panic recede, leaving him tired and cold again, but willing to see what was going to happen.

Gussan’s breath was washing across his face, not just proximity this time, but from an attempt to speak. He had a hard time getting recognizable words out, past the strain still on his face, past the fangs that weren't meant for human speech, and Nagase didn’t get most of it, except the clearly heard _want_ and _mine_.

Instead of calming him or maybe even terrifying him further, the words made Nagase laugh, the absolute ridiculousness of what was happening to him bubbling up from his stomach, more than a bit tinged with hysteria. He had a moment to think that it might set Gussan off, might break the control he seemed to be exerting over the instinct that had driven him to kill, but he couldn't stop, amused by wondering what he had done in some past life, or, hell, even this one, that he was finally hearing the words that he'd half been waiting for just about his whole life, but under these circumstances. No romantic dinners or starry beaches for him, no. Instead he got cold, hard ground, death and pain, and being held down in a frightening way while he was confessed to. If he lived through this, the next time Mabo ragged him about being lucky, he was just going to punch him in the face.

Gussan waited through the laughter, either not upset by it or he still retained enough memory of his life to know how Nagase reacted when stressed past bearing. Even with the tenseness in his face and body never letting up, Gussan kept waiting for Nagase to stop fighting. Kept waiting for him to accept the garbled, horrible confession he'd made, and just thinking about it made Nagase want to start laughing again, even while wondering how that waiting would end if kept fighting.

But it didn't seem like it was going to end, because Gussan just... waited. For Nagase's sake, in a way he hadn't been able to for the others. And that, regardless of the obvious changes in him, was all Gussan. He'd never had Leader's anxious consideration, nor Mabo's solicitous one, more an almost hidden concern, unobtrusively checking that the others were okay, stepping in when they weren't, even if it meant getting himself in trouble. Knowing that Gussan, familiar, _needed_ , was still in there, at least in some way, made up his mind.

He didn't know what would happen, what he might agree to later and what he'd fight, but they couldn't stay here. The others were coming, and that could only end in someone getting hurt, either the crew or Gussan. Most likely the crew, and what had happened was already too much, a burden that would be hard on Gussan if he had enough awareness to know what he'd done. But if they somehow managed to catch him... even if Gussan didn't get killed in the process, what kind of life could he ever have after that? A lab experiment or stuck in a prison? For what, falling prey to something he obviously wouldn't have chosen, and also obviously couldn't control, at least not all the way? No, Nagase wasn't going to let that happen, not to his friend. Not to whatever else Gussan might be to him. Better to get away now, protect the others, and then, somehow, figure out what to do later.

He might have trouble speaking, but Gussan still understood what was said to him, responding instantly when Nagase said they needed to find a safe hiding place, away from the crew and police that were likely coming. He jumped up and grabbed Nagase's arm, pulling him up so fast he nearly jerked it out its socket before Nagase could get his legs properly underneath him. Gussan gave him no time to acclimate, going from a stand still to a run and apparently not caring that Nagase couldn't accelerate that quickly.

He'd seen it in the attack on Shindo, but he could feel it now, the speed that Gussan now possessed. Nagase felt like he wasn't so much running behind him as being dragged, like a child with a toy. They didn't slow much when they entered the woods, either, Gussan barely even pausing when Nagase fell. Which he did a lot, adding bruises and cuts to the collection he'd already gotten that day. As much as it hurt and as out of breath as he was, Nagase didn't complain, needing distance from the others, needing time to think what to do before the decision was completely taken out of his hands.

Not that he thought all that well under pressure at the best of times, and here, late at night, scared and way out of his depth, all he could really do was hope. Hope that whatever had happened would reverse itself. Hope that no one else would get hurt. Hope that whatever happened between either of them now, they could at least live to regret it.

Nagase, without the light of the moon to help, couldn't see anything around them, but Gussan's night vision was good, leading them unerringly to a large jumble of rocks, trees crowding close, looking like nothing much in the darkness of the woods, but making an almost lean-to like shelter for them, protection from the cold, and against anyone who might come looking. Pressed close to his limits, Nagase just dropped when Gussan pushed at his shoulder, not really trying to mind so much as being just too tired to argue when sitting was better, and obeying was safer, anyway. He didn't mind when Gussan sat close behind him, either, pushing back into him, the warmth of the body beside him not yet touching the cold in his bones, but better than being alone.

Without the moon, it was easier to ignore the changes in Gussan, the security that his presence had always brought restored by the lack of light. Here, even cold and smelling of blood, the cuts on his arms and neck burning, Nagase could remember all the times he'd wanted to do this. To have Gussan's strong body press up close to him, his own body trying to curve around, to fit back into the comfort that he'd felt when he'd been thirteen and some kids had surrounded him, knocking him down and kicking at him until Gussan had showed up and literally thrown them away from him. Gussan had hugged him afterward, until he'd felt better, one hand pressing Nagase's head against his shoulder, his chin resting against Nagase's hair. It had probably been the last time Nagase had been short enough to do that, and he'd tried to make himself even smaller, to fit perfectly into the curve of shoulder until the only thing he could see was the pattern on Gussan's shirt, a bit of the arm draped across him. He'd felt completely safe for the first time since he'd been ten and decided he was old enough to be the man of the family.

It was odd to feel safe now, the fingers of the arms holding him ending in claws instead of nails, the fangs that were still so close to his throat an obvious threat, but he did all the same. Whatever instinct had driven Gussan to kill, it wasn't blood that he wanted from Nagase. Fight or fuck, maybe, both powerful desires. Nagase hated what had happened, and didn't know what would happen afterward, but he still wanted to live... and as fucked in the head as it probably was, he thought he might want this, too, this thing that might be his last chance to finish what he'd tried to start all those years ago, when he'd leaned in close to Gussan and stolen his first kiss. He'd been gently pushed away after that kiss, though not out of lack of attraction. Back then it had been his age, Nagase too young for Gussan to feel comfortable about it. Later it had been caution, too big a chance of their careers being ruined if they were caught. It had always sat between them, even when they were dating someone, but something else had always won in the end.

There was nothing else now; no age barrier, no caution. Okay, Nagase had to admit that common sense said no. Sanity said for him to run, to hide, to do anything but stay there with something that had once been his bandmate, but might now be his death. But Gussan's hands were tugging at his clothes, nose pressed close to scent at his hair again, his dick hard once more and rubbing against Nagase's ass even through their jeans. The nails weren't quite careful enough, adding more scratches to the odd pattern on his arms and chest, but Gussan still went slow, the strain of it apparent in the hard muscles Nagase could feel all around him, but Gussan in control enough to not go too far.

Feeling the size of the dick he was considering taking into his body, remembering what it looked like from countless after-concert get-togethers, where clothes were totally optional, Nagase was sure common sense was voting no again, but he felt heat shoot down his own dick at the thought. He'd never done this before, not even with toys, but he had used his hands at times, long fingers handy in exploring his body, and he knew how good it could feel. Turning to face Gussan, his eyes adjusted enough to see the familiar outlines, and the alienness that overlay them as well, Nagase finally gave Gussan the answer he'd been waiting for, unbuttoning both their jeans, ignoring the feel of the blood that had dried and frozen on them.

Careful again, Gussan managed to get his own jeans off without too much damage once the button was undone. Nagase was quicker at it, already starting to touch himself, growing harder even in the cold, the smell of Gussan and arousal, both strong in the close space they were in, urging him on. Gussan's dick was fully erect and growing slick, need making him growl when Nagase touched him, and Nagase knew Gussan wouldn't be able to hold out for much longer. Not wanting to have his first time hurt any worse than it had to, he gave up exploring in favor of using spit and a bit of precome to open himself up as much as he could.

Even with that, it was still hurt like hell when Gussan finally urged him onto hands and knees, strong hands gripping his hips, and that thick dick pressed inside. He wasn't lubed enough, it wasn't slow enough, he was too damn tight, and even with having agreed to this, Nagase couldn't help but cry out and pull away. He had a moment to worry that Gussan might not be able to keep control, might keep going, might even strike out, but even though he shook while doing it, Gussan stilled inside him, letting him adjust for a moment before pressing in again.

In a perfect world, they'd be doing this in a warm bed, and things would have gone easier. But then in a perfect world, Gussan would have been his usual self, and Nagase wouldn't be crazy for doing this. In the world they had, though, the sharp ache in his ass started to soften into a slow burn even as Gussan started to thrust harder, and the pain and pleasure starting to mingle until he couldn't really tell them apart, everything narrowed down to feeling: the dick in his ass, the string-callused fingers, careful, perfectly careful, playing over his own dick, cold air all around him, a warm body at his back, sharp teeth on the crook of his neck, biting down. The bite was hard enough to break the skin, but it didn't stop him from coming, rather drove him on, white and silver and light flashing behind tightly closed eyes, snow and moon all he could see until the world finally washed in again.

Cold air and aching ass tried to steal away his afterglow, and his knees were telling him to shake Gussan off, the other man obviously spent as well, but he held out for one breath, another, wanting to make the most of the moment if it was the last one he got. But Gussan's control didn't break. His breathing was easier, the strain apparently gone as he pulled out of Nagase's body and, in an amazing fit of practicality considering what they had just done, handed Nagase his jeans.

Once they’d gotten dressed, though, the practicality ended, Gussan pulling Nagase back into his arms again instead, pressing his head against Gussan’s shoulder, a mirror to that first time he’d held him. Nagase knew he should figure out what had happened to Gussan, should certainly try to figure out what they were going to do now, but he was so tired, adrenalin washing out of him and dragging him towards sleep, even as that saner part of his mind was still urging him to get away. He ignored it again, letting the warmth around him and the safety he shouldn't feel win out, and he fell asleep even as Gussan's breathing evened out to match his own.

~*~

"It killed Shindo while I was still trying to find Yamaguchi, and then it attacked me, but I never did get a close look at it. It moved too fast, and, to tell the truth, I was scared out of my mind, so it was all a blur. If Yamaguchi hadn't made some noise and frightened it away, I guess I would have been killed, too. After that, we just ran and hid until it was light enough to see our way around, then we made our way back to the base camp as fast as we could."

The policeman was pitching his voice low, gently, as he asked his questions. There was nothing of suspicion in them, only clarifying things, wanting to know what animal they were looking for so they could make sure no one else was hurt. Nagase didn't want anyone else hurt, either, the memory of Kido and Shindo still close behind his eyes, but he still lied with all the skill that years of acting had given him.

Nagase had never been book smart, far too impatient to be _doing_ something to sit down and study properly, but even he could figure out, as hard as it was to believe, what the full moon had meant, the feral, wolf-like features that Gussan had had, and how all of it had disappeared as dawn had come. Even if he could get the policeman to believe him about what had happened, though, there was no way he was letting them take Gussan away, when the only options they'd likely see were to study him or put him down, like he was a dog gone bad instead of a human who'd been cursed with something he hadn't asked for.

They'd just have to learn to be cautious, making sure they weren't filming on the night of the full moon, making sure they could come up with a good excuse why they were both busy on one night a month. It would be hard, and it might affect their careers, but they'd just have to do their best. They'd also have to find some place that was away from people, no one that Gussan could hurt, or that might hurt them, letting the wolf's fight or fuck instinct go the way that would make both of them happy. All the lying, hiding the changes, would also be hard, but the truth wouldn't be any better. They might not like it, but they could do it, just as they'd hid for years, sometimes even to themselves, what they both had really wanted.

He caught Gussan's eye, calm on the surface, but worried and guilty underneath. Nagase gave his hand a quick squeeze under the table, knowing that no one would think anything of it, not after what they'd been through; Nagase cut and bruised, and both of them covered in blood. Gussan would know, though, that it wasn't just comfort, but a reminder that he wasn't alone.

They'd argued about that on their way back that morning, Gussan's memory all too good, even after he'd changed back, and he'd been torn between wanting to admit what he'd done and paying for it, and being afraid of what would happen, but absolutely sure either way that he didn't want Nagase to risk himself at the next full moon. But Nagase had just smiled his best silly grin, the one he knew Gussan really liked even when he made fun of it. Because while he might not be smart, there were still a lot of things he knew; he knew how to act and to hide in plain sight, and he knew what he wanted.

Nagase also knew people; who to trust, and who to just be polite to. When the policeman finished up his interview and told them they could go home, Nagase politely nodded to him, grateful if not trusting, and all the while continuing to think about where they could go on the next full moon, and the one after that. Thinking years and years into a future that might be longer than it should be because of what had happened, and would never be easy because of that as well.

Even if he'd wanted a way out after everything that had happened between them, there was no choice: because there was something that Gussan hadn't considered. Because even crusted and sore and maybe a tiny bit infected, Nagase had still hidden the bite on his shoulder from the nurse who'd cleaned him up. Because the next full moon, nearly a month away, was already humming in his veins, and Nagase knew that the bite hadn't just been a mark of possession.

/story


End file.
